Malibu Music

by Rosemary Hammond

  As soon as the colour was gone from the sky, she felt a chill on her bare shoulders and shivered a little, hugging her arms closely. Better go in, she thought, and as she slowly rose to her feet, the thought came to her that if it was an unhappy love affair she needed to perfect her music, Gerry would be an ideal candidate. There was no way an affair with him could possibly end except with her own suffering.

  She picked up the black kitten from the chaise and went inside. As she slid the glass door shut behind her and bolted it securely, she decided firmly that nothing—not even her music—was worth the risk of that kind of pain. It wasn't even a risk, she thought as she set Midnight down on the kitchen floor. It was a certainty, and she closed her mind against it.

  Late Saturday night, just two days after Tom's visit, Bianca was once again awakened out of a sound sleep by the blast of raucous music coming from the house next door. She'd been leaving her bedroom window open at night now that the evenings were warmer, and this time the awful din was even worse then last.

  She sat bolt upright in bed, recognised the source of the wild shrieks and pounding beat, then flopped back on her pillow. Honestly, she thought in disgust, you'd think he'd have more consideration for his poor neighbours.

  She turned on her stomach and pulled the covers up over her head, but the noise hardly abated. She sat up again, glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed and groaned. Three o'clock in the morning. There ought to be a law. Maybe there was, and for one grim moment, she considered calling the police. It would serve him right.

  With a sigh, she slipped out of bed, threw a thin robe on over her cotton nightgown and started to the kitchen to make a cup of cocoa. There was no point in trying to sleep. On her way out of the bedroom she slammed the window shut. It helped a little.

  She flipped on the kitchen light and got out the milk and cocoa. As she stood at the stove warming it, she yawned deeply. Glancing out the window as she stirred, she could see the bright full moon shining in the dark cloudless sky. She smiled to herself. After all, she thought, I don't have to get up early. What difference does it make if I lose a little sleep?

  When the cocoa was heated, she poured some into a mug and went out on the verandah to get a better look, at the beautiful night sky. A gentle breeze wafted over her. It was quite warm.

  There was a sudden blissful lull in the loud music coming from next door. Bianca moved over to the railing of the verandah and leaned slightly over the edge to get a better look. Once again, the house was blazing with light, and she could hear sounds of laughter, people calling to each other, a woman's high shriek. It sounded as though they were having a good time, but it wasn't her idea of fun.

  She turned her gaze back to the sea, scanning the darkness, enjoying the sudden peace and quiet. Gradually, she managed to tune out the voices from the party, and she began to experience the delicious sensation that she was all alone in this starlit universe.

  Then a sudden movement on the beach below caught her eye. Curious, and a little apprehensive, she glanced down to see a large dark shape in the shadows, out of the light still streaming through the kitchen window.

  'Is that you, Juliet?' came a deep, masculine voice.

  She blinked, startled, trying to adjust her eyes. Then she realised it was Gerry speaking and had to smile.

  'What are you doing down there, you fool?' she called softly.

  'Taking a walk. Enjoying the view.'

  There was a teasing, seductive quality to his voice, and it dawned on her that although she could barely make out his shape, she herself was well-illuminated by the lights from inside. She pulled her robe tighter around her, propped her elbows on the railing and leaned over a little farther.

  'You mean you've left your own party?' she mocked. 'How rude.'

  'It's not my party,' he retorted.

  Her eyes were accustomed to the darkness now, and she could see him more clearly. He was standing just below the verandah, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring up at her. She couldn't make out the expression on his face in the dimness, but she could well imagine the slow, knowing smile on that beautiful, sensuous mouth.

  'What do you mean it's not your party?' she asked tartly. 'You invited me, didn't you?'

  She saw him lift his broad shoulders in a slight shrug. 'Well, when you said you wouldn't come, I cancelled it, but they came anyway.'

  She giggled a little. 'You're crazy, you know that?'

  'I do, indeed, Juliet.' He paused. 'Come on down.'

  'I can't. I'm not dressed.'

  'Good,' was the immediate reply.

  She laughed shortly. 'I'm not that big a fool.'

  'I'll come up, then.'

  'No you won't,' she replied firmly.

  There was another pause. 'What are you drinking?'

  'Cocoa.'

  'Gee, that sure sounds good.' There was a wistful note in his voice.

  'It seems to me that there's plenty of liquid refreshment at your place—among other things,' she remarked dryly. She remembered Laura's comments about the Southern Californian acidheads, and had visions of a marijuana and cocaine orgy.

  He chuckled deep in his throat. 'It's not that kind of party.' There was a short silence. Then, 'I'd sure like a cup of cocoa,' he remarked in a pathetic tone.

  'Well, you're not getting one,' she said firmly.

  'Not even if I promise to behave?' His voice was so low she could barely hear him.

  'I don't trust you,' she said, but she knew she was wavering.

  The trouble was, she thought, she liked him. He was dangerous, she knew, but there was an insouciant charm about him that she found very appealing in spite of his arrant egotism. He was probably perfectly harmless. She was wide awake and wouldn't mind a little company. Still, there definitely was an element of danger in him. She would have to be on her guard against that.

  While she was still debating within herself whether to let him come up, she heard a bounding tread on the wooden stairs and the next thing she knew he was walking towards her.

  She could see him quite clearly now that he was in the light, and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he approached her slowly. My goodness, he's a handsome man, she thought. The shadowy light sharpened the angles of his face and caught the gleam in the dark eyes. His black hair was tousled, as usual, falling over his forehead, curling around his ears, and he was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck.

  'You've got some nerve,' she remarked coolly. He stood before her now, grinning down at her. 'I don't remember inviting you up here.'

  He folded his tanned muscular arms in front of him and rested his lean hips back against the railing. The eyes were hooded now, the grin lazy, appraising, as he gazed at her.

  'You can trust me,' he said softly. 'All I want is a cup of cocoa. Promise.'

  'What about your guests?' She gestured to the house next door.

  'They won't even know I'm gone,' he said in a positive tone.

  'Why are you gone?' she asked, suddenly curious.

  He shrugged. 'I don't know. It's their party. They invited themselves.'

  'Don't you like that kind of party?'

  The grin widened. 'I'm trying to wean myself away from them.' She gave him a dubious look. 'I really am,' he said in a more serious tone. 'It's just not that easy to break old ties.'

  She thought that over for a moment, then smiled at him, deciding to take him at his word. 'Do you really want a cup of cocoa?'

  He nodded solemnly. 'I really do.'

  'You're making fun of me again!'

  He pushed himself away from the railing in a lithe, graceful motion and reached out a hand to her cheek, brushing it lightly with his fingertips. 'No, I'm not, Bianca. It's just my way. Now, will you please get me a cup of cocoa?'

  Without a word she turned from him and went inside. That touch had shaken her, and she didn't want him to see it. As she got down another mug from the cupboard, she was dismayed to see how her hand trembled. She set the mug down on the counte
r and turned the burner on under the pot of cocoa. While she waited for it to heat, she tried to think coherently about what was happening to her.

  No man had ever had quite the disturbing effect on her as Gerry seemed to create, just by his mere presence. The impact of his compelling good looks and assured manner confused her, made her feel gauche and inexperienced. Well, she thought, switching off the burner and pouring cocoa into the mug, wasn't she gauche and inexperienced?

  That had never seemed to matter before. Up until now, except for that brief crush on Tom Schiffren, the whole area of relations between the sexes had been a closed book to her. She didn't like the way Gerry made her feel when he touched her, or even looked at her in that certain confident way he had, but still she found it definitely pleasant to be viewed as desirable by such an attractive man.

  As she walked slowly back out to the verandah, steadier now after those few moments alone, she had to laugh at herself. What had he done, after all? A kiss, a touch, a look. They meant nothing. She had been too sheltered. Why not just enjoy his company? It was music that filled her life. She could handle Gerry. He wasn't going to attack her, or rape her, for heaven's sake. She'd been blowing the whole thing out of all proportion.

  She stepped lightly through the doorway on to the verandah, feeling more confident now. He was standing at the far edge, his back to her, leaning over, his arms braced along the railing. She caught her breath and stopped short when she saw the broad back, the way the muscles strained against the thin cloth of his white shirt. The thick dark hair grew low on the nape of his neck so that it touched the collar, and she couldn't help wondering how it would feel in her fingers.

  For a moment, her resolution faltered, and she had a strong urge to run back inside, slam the door shut and bolt it against him. Then he straightened up, stretched a little and turned around. When he saw her standing there, he smiled broadly.

  'Ah,' he said, 'my cocoa.'

  She walked towards him, the mug in her outstretched hand, and returned a weak smile of her own. With each step she took, she had the feeling that she was moving closer to some point of no return, and the thought crossed her mind that that point could mean either an exciting adventure or her own doom.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  'I've been listening to you practice.' He had settled himself comfortably on the padded chaise and was looking up at her over the mug of cocoa. 'I'm impressed.'

  She held her own mug in both hands to keep it steady. 'I wish my teacher felt the same,' she remarked with a nervous laugh.

  'Your teacher? Is that the artistic type who was over here the other day? Short, skinny guy?'

  'Yes, Tom Schiffren. He's a real slave driver.' Short and skinny? Compared to Gerry, he probably was, she thought.

  'He looked like a real wimp to me.'

  She opened her mouth to make a sharp retort in Tom's defence, then realised he was merely baiting her. 'Looks can be deceiving,' she said at last.

  He raised an eyebrow at that and gave her a thoughtful look. 'Are you trying to tell me something?'

  'What do you mean? I don't understand.'

  'Okay, I'll spell it out. Are you sleeping with him?'

  She choked on a swallow of cocoa and almost dropped her mug. 'With Tom?' she gasped. Then a slow flush of anger began to flow through her. 'You've got a lot of brass asking me a question like that. It's none of your business. How would you like it if I asked you who you were sleeping with?'

  'Are you?'

  She gave him a blank look. 'Am I what?'

  'Asking me who I'm sleeping with.'

  'No, of course not. I don't care who you're sleeping with.'

  'Don't you?'

  'Of course not.'

  'I'm crushed.' He eyed her carefully. 'I'll tell you anyway. I'm not sleeping with anyone. Now, are you happy?'

  She could only stare. How had this conversation started in the first place? she wondered. Now he'd twisted it around so that he was responding to a demand she'd never made. Finally, she decided the only way to handle the awkward situation was to laugh at him, treat his bantering, suggestive innuendo as a joke.

  'You're impossible,' she said at last with a smile. 'You know that?'

  He grinned. 'You have a wonderful smile. It goes well with that messy mop of hair.'

  'You're one to talk!' she retorted, eyeing his own dark head meaningfully.

  He laughed. 'Come and sit down,' he said, patting the narrow space on the chaise beside him. 'You make me nervous standing there.'

  Bianca couldn't imagine him nervous under any conceivable circumstances, and she certainly had no intention of sitting down on that chaise. His large body sprawled gracefully over most of the surface of the pad, leaving barely enough room for even her slim form.

  She set her mug down on the round metal table and turned to reach for one of the folding aluminum chairs stacked up against the house, when she felt a firm grip on her arm pulling her off balance. Before she could regain her equilibrium, she found herself seated beside him on that narrow strip of padding. She could feel the warmth and hardness of his body through her nightgown and robe, and immediately started to jump to her feet. His grip on her arm was firm, however, and she couldn't move.

  'Relax, Bianca,' he said softly. 'I won't hurt you. I'm just a very affectionate guy. I like you, so I want to feel you close to me. That's all.'

  As if to prove his point, he released her arm and moved an inch or so away from her so that they weren't pressed quite so closely together. He locked his arms behind his head and rested back on them.

  Bianca wasn't sure what to do. She was tempted to get up and walk inside the house and leave him out there alone. She was also tempted to stay right where she was. She looked at him. He seemed harmless.

  'You're incorrigible,' she said at last.

  'I know.' There was a note of satisfaction in his voice.

  'Also arrogant, pushy, conceited, irresponsible…'

  'Hey, hold on. You're going to hurt my feelings in a minute.'

  'I honestly don't think that's possible,' she said, dead serious.

  He gave her an odd look. 'Oh, it's possible, Bianca,' he said softly. Then, 'Look, I'm not looking for an involvement. God knows I've had enough of those. I just like you. You're different. I admire your dedication to music, your professionalism. We're going to be neighbours for a while. Why can't we be friends?'

  He seemed quite serious, for a change, she thought, watching him. The mocking smile and knowing look were gone. And, oh, Lord, she thought irrationally, he's even more attractive when he's not kidding around. Well, he only wanted to be friends. She did like him, and they were neighbours.

  'All right,' she said at last. 'Friends.'

  'Shake,' he said and extended a hand.

  She took it with a smile, and the next thing she knew she was pressed up against him, his arms around her, his mouth covering hers in a hard, demanding kiss. Caught totally off-guard, Bianca found herself responding to the pressure of the firm lips in spite of herself. Her mouth softened under his, and she quite enjoyed the way his large hands were stroking up and down her back.

  Then she felt the tip of his tongue against her lips, and she stiffened. Gauche and inexperienced she may be, she thought wildly, but she knew that wasn't the way 'friends' kissed each other. Then, when she felt experienced fingers begin to slide tantalisingly from her back, over her fragile ribcage to settle on one firm, high breast, she gasped and wrenched her head back. Glaring at him, she struggled vainly to twist herself out of that iron grip.

  'You lied to me!' she accused furiously.

  'Now what makes you say a thing like that?' He bent his head to nuzzle along her jawline and up to her ear. The hand moved sensuously to explore her other breast. 'I told you I was a very affectionate person.'

  'Well, I'm not,' she choked out. 'Now, let go of me.' The touch of his hand on her breast had left a path that felt like liquid fire in her bloodstream, delicious, wonderful, but shattering.

  'Ok
ay,' he said at last with a sigh. His hands and mouth left her, and he settled back on the chaise. 'Have it your way.' He smiled. 'It's just that you're very tempting sitting there in your robe, so cool, so distant. I can't resist trying to get a reaction from you.'

  Which he had, she thought, flushing deeply. She jumped to her feet, still trembling. She was badly shaken. She'd never been kissed or touched like that before, hardly ever been kissed at all except for giggling juvenile experiments when she was in school. All of the men she knew were more interested in music than romance.

  She finally managed to get herself under control. Somehow she would have to make Gerry understand. She looked down at him.

  'Gerry,' she said slowly, 'if we're going to be friends you've got to quit making these sneak attacks on me.'

  'You didn't like it?' He seemed to be sincerely interested.

  The trouble was, she had liked it too well, but she wasn't going to tell him that. 'That's beside the point,' she went on. 'I might learn to like heroin, but that doesn't mean it's good for me.' She paused. 'You have to understand, Gerry,' she went on in a low voice. 'My life… my family… the way I've lived.' She struggled to find the right words. 'Well, I've lived almost like a nun. It's the same with my brothers and sisters… We just haven't lived normal lives.' A wistful note crept into her voice. She shrugged helplessly and tried to smile. 'I'm afraid your idea of friendship isn't exactly the same as mine.'

  He stood up now and gazed down at her. 'No. That's obvious. I apologise.' He frowned, then lifted his head and looked away from her. 'I come from a pretty free-and-easy lifestyle,' he said evenly. 'As I said earlier, I'm trying to wean myself away from it. I think maybe you could help me. I admire you very much.' He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders. 'I'm trying…' He broke off, glanced down at her, then looked away again. 'I'm trying to be a more serious person.'

  Bianca was touched, but still wary. Was his sudden humility just another role he was acting? She didn't trust him an inch. What game was he playing this time? What was he trying to tell her? She waited.